Chapter Ninety-Six: The Battle Begins

As they drew nearer, the White-Eyebrowed Taoist suddenly narrowed his pupils. So the sky had not turned gray because of any natural change in the weather at all; it was simply that the sheer scale of the Vatican host had blocked out the sun.

At the forefront stood Joseph Peter XVI, golden scepter in hand, splendidly robed and solemn-faced. Beside him were seven bishops in magnificent red vestments: the Church’s only remaining seven cardinals. Beyond them, many bishops in white robes were scattered throughout the formation, each leading a contingent of the Church’s eastern expeditionary forces. The ranks of flesh and blood stretched on and on, and the million-strong faithful seemed like an endless city wall. Scattered everywhere, the white-robed bishops each commanded their own column of the crusading army.

Golden armor gleamed, silver breastplates flashed. The Church’s silver-armored warriors and the Order of Holy Knights had truly come out in force. With the descent of the miracle of Heaven, many of the faithful had suddenly risen to the level of silver-armored warriors. Suspended in midair, the dark mass of troops blotted out the sunlight.

“They really outnumber us even more than last time!” Bian Xingzhao cried out in alarm. He had taken part in the last eastern crusade, and now, seeing the scale of the Church’s forces, he estimated their numbers at well over a million.

“What a display of wealth. I wonder how the Church managed to gather so many fighting men,” Gao Zhuoyi said. He had never witnessed such a vast spectacle before. Looking at the army ahead, he felt the same earthshaking grandeur one might see in a grand cinematic epic. It was truly magnificent. Then he thought of how they had assembled so many combatants. Though the Church’s individual fighters were no match for Eastern cultivators, their numbers were not to be underestimated. If the East had such a vast host as well, would they not flatten the Vatican outright?

“Tch.” An elder of some standing from the Mount Shu Sword Sect let out a scornful sniff and said, “They did not cultivate this power by their own ability. They merely borrowed it from their master.”

His words were brief and plain, but Gao Zhuoyi, who knew a little of the truth, understood at once. The Church’s army had not grown stronger on its own at all; it had been forcibly elevated by the power of the gods.

Facing the million-strong army, Gao Zhuoyi did not show the slightest trace of fear. On the contrary, a fierce flame rose from the depths of his heart. Perhaps that was the fearless courage of youth.

“Still, the Church really is formidable,” said the White Cloud Daoist without stinting his praise. “To mobilize such an enormous number of believers is no small feat.”

“Lost Easterners,” Joseph Peter XVI said in arrogant Chinese, holding his head high, “I have come here by my Lord’s command to sow the seeds of light. Why do you not step aside?”

Perhaps because he believed he was carrying out the will of God, he spoke with not the slightest politeness. In other words, he was haughty and overbearing to the extreme.

“To hell with that winged bastard...” Bian Xingzhao was furious. Perhaps because he practiced demonic arts, his temper was direct; if a word displeased him, he cursed without hesitation. The surrounding cultivators felt a great surge of satisfaction hearing it. This was exactly how one should deal with the Church.

Of course, not every cultivator thought the same way. The female cultivators of the Moon Pavilion all wore annoyed expressions and gave a sharp rebuke: “Old fool!”

Joseph Peter XVI furrowed his brow. His displeasure at Bian Xingzhao’s rudeness was plain for all to see.

“Form the array!” The two sides were mortal enemies. On this day, it was either you die or I die. Without waiting for the Church to react, the White-Eyebrowed Taoist barked the order according to the preparations they had already discussed.

“Grand Primordial Shattering Void Array, take your positions!” Two thousand one hundred and twenty-eight streaks of light rose abruptly from the barren island; they were the traces left behind as each cultivator took up his appointed place. This Grand Primordial Shattering Void Array was an array on an unprecedented scale. Its special feature was that, unlike many other formations, it did not require the person setting it up to have reached some peak realm. Any cultivator capable of using spiritual energy could arrange it.

The strength of the array depended entirely on how many people formed it. Only when two thousand one hundred and twenty-eight cultivators deployed it simultaneously did it become the true Grand Primordial Shattering Void Array, at which point its power would surge severalfold at once.

This was not a matter of one plus one equaling two. In mere moments, all two thousand one hundred and twenty-eight cultivators took their places in sequence. It was clear that their familiarity with the array had already reached the point where they could use it as naturally as breathing.

Its power began to reveal itself. At two thousand one hundred and twenty-eight array eyes, two thousand one hundred and twenty-eight cultivators simultaneously turned the true essence within their bodies. Countless white beams rose from the sea, converged overhead, and then suddenly burst outward. A barrier spanning a thousand li in radius appeared.

At once, both the cultivators and the Church’s army were enclosed within it. This way, there was no need to worry that satellites in outer space might capture anything. At the same time, the Grand Primordial Shattering Void Array also served as a suppression seal, blocking the infusion of light power to the greatest extent possible. In other words, if no replenishment could be obtained, the Church’s forces would eventually be worn down to nothing.

Meanwhile, the cultivators’ spiritual energy was likewise obstructed. But in terms of individual strength, the people in the Church’s army were clearly no match for the cultivators. Thus, the balance of advantage shifted toward the cultivators.

Joseph Peter XVI remained unmoved, because he still held one trump card that had not yet been played. So long as that card remained in hand, he believed with absolute certainty that victory would belong to them.

“Let me go first!” Bian Xingzhao cried out and shot forward. His figure flashed like a great roc bird, and in an instant he was already before Joseph Peter XVI. The two had originally been separated by some five li, yet in the blink of an eye he had closed the distance. This alone showed that Bian Xingzhao’s power at the demonic transformation stage was no mere show.

His mouth opened and closed as though chanting some spell. In a haze, a faint black aura rose about him. He swept out a palm, black light blazing from it, and a mass of raging fire shot straight toward Joseph Peter XVI. The fire’s momentum was overwhelming, devastating and sky-filling. Several believers standing before the pope let out piercing cries as the ferocious flames instantly burned their flesh to ash.

Yet just as the fire reached the pope, Joseph Peter XVI swung the scepter in his hand. A golden radiance flashed, and the black flames were extinguished at once. That earlier violent blaze had not even managed a single exchange against the pope’s scepter.

The chief reason for this was likely the scepter’s special nature. It had been bestowed upon the pope of the Vatican by God, and before this eastern crusade it had also received the power of the six-winged seraph Raphael. Only then could it so effortlessly snuff out Bian Xingzhao’s black fire.

After the strike, Bian Xingzhao was startled that the other side had actually blocked his attack. But even in his surprise, he paid no heed to the pope’s reaction and continued his savage assault, his figure flashing through the Church’s ranks, now east, now west, roaming freely. Wherever he passed, lives were cut down.

He had great confidence in his own strength. Hard persimmons were difficult to eat, so why not pick the soft ones instead?

The pope saw through Bian Xingzhao’s intention. He had no desire to decide victory or defeat with the pope in a direct duel; he was merely weakening the Church’s army little by little.

The gap in strength could not always be made up by numbers alone. Bian Xingzhao knew this well, which was why he had devised such a style of warfare. It might be somewhat despicable, but when the two sides already stood as enemies, what did a little more despicableness matter?

“Despicable Eastern cultivator!” The pope was enraged by Bian Xingzhao’s underhanded methods. He gripped the golden scepter in one hand and swept it downward, ordering all believers to begin their counterattack at once.

The Church’s army moved out in full force, and the cultivators naturally did not remain idle. From the moment Bian Xingzhao began his assault, Gao Zhuoyi had already made his preparations. He drew several blank talismans from his robes, gathered true essence at his fingertips, and casually inscribed upon them with easy grace. In no time at all, several talismans bearing golden script were complete.

Made on the spot and used immediately, Gao Zhuoyi flicked his hand and sent them scattering. The talismans drifted forward like a breeze, wavering along their course. Once they entered the Church’s ranks, a chain of booming detonations followed. The tightly packed army, numerous as they were, looked like conspicuous living targets, exploding one cluster after another.

The talismans were powerful and capable of long-range attack. Perhaps that was precisely why Gao Zhuoyi, though only at the Core Formation stage, had been specially permitted to take part in this eastern crusade.

Yet the Church’s army in the distance seemed not to hear or see, and still advanced fearlessly, scattering toward the cultivators.

“Free and Easy Sword Art, Dragon’s Roar Beyond the Nine Heavens!”

Amid several dragon roars that shook the firmament, Gu Danqiu, head of the Mount Shu Sword Sect, revealed his signature skill. With a turn of his hand, he summoned a long sword gleaming with a cold, sinister light. The sword was named Dragon’s Roar, and its aura was naturally domineering beyond compare. More importantly, it was an immortal sword.

Gu Danqiu raised the blade and swept it once. From its tip burst streak after streak of sword qi, nearly a thousand in all. Exploding outward with tremendous force, these sword energies gave off repeated dragon roars, as though they possessed a will of their own. They struck dead center into more than a hundred Holy Knights pressing forward. The knights, suspended in midair, were hit in an instant. Each of them took no fewer than six sword strikes, then wavered and fell toward the sea.

So this was the power of Eastern cultivators?

Gu Danqiu’s fierce and terrifying assault immediately suppressed the Church’s boundless self-confidence. Their hearts trembled: if the one struck had been me, what would the outcome have been?

No wonder the Church’s eastern crusade a century ago had ended in failure. There was indeed reason for it.

The sharp, piercing whistles and the soul-shaking impact were enough to show how effective Gu Danqiu’s sword technique was. Many believers did not even have time to react before they were pierced through by the sword qi.

Clang.

A ascetic monk raised a barrier and barely managed to block one incoming sword qi. Just as he was rejoicing, countless more sword energies began raining down from the heavens. He was struck with terror beyond measure; every pore on his body stood rigid. He wanted to flee, but it was already too late. Closing his eyes, he could only wait for death to arrive.

High in the air, Gu Danqiu smiled with contempt. Was this the Church’s strength? Nothing more than a rabble with a few more men. And they still dared to launch a crusade?

With a sweeping motion, he released yet more sword qi.

“Free and Easy Sword Art, Ten Thousand Arrows at Once!”

His state of mind had already descended fully into the sword technique. He had no room for distraction. Overbearing. Fierce. Those were the only words that could describe his attack. Darkness pressed over the heavens and the earth, and in an instant this place became hell for the Church’s army.

Gu Danqiu let out a breath. Even with the cultivation of the Divided Spirit stage, after repeatedly unleashing his ultimate techniques, he still felt somewhat strained. The true essence within his body had actually been worn down to about seventy or eighty percent.

Yet looking at the fruits of his battle, he smiled in delight: bloodstained seawater, and the spectacle of corpses floating for a thousand li.

Church, I will make sure you come with nothing and leave with nothing.

“Fellow Daoists, coordinate well. Those who have expended too much true essence, recover quickly. Those who still have strength left, devote yourselves fully to the fight!”

The speaker was none other than the White-Eyebrowed Taoist of the Kunlun Sect. By this point he no longer had time to care about the bearing of an immortal. With a sweep of his hand, seals and restraints flew out one after another.

Nearby, the pavilion master of the Moon Pavilion, Situ Lanya, was the same. Though still lovely as ever, her beauty now carried a little more firmness, a little more wind-swept severity, and a little more killing intent.

After reading, please leave plenty of comments...

I must also recommend a fairly enjoyable current novel, My Brother Is a Goddess, as well as a lighthearted one, The Lost Key.